where the heart pulses into earth & sky



Where are we really going? Always home.


becoming the mountain or the wave is the slipping away and the surrender to our raw and awakened self…..just listening…..just feeling…..all that, and then a little magic……

At dawn in summer, I carry my flute to the top of the slickrock mesa, where the undulating stone summit overlooks valleys, canyons, distant ridges, and peaks. I play the walnut flute as a way of beginning the day, greeting the world, offering melodies to rock, clouds, ponderosa, cottonwood in the draw below, grasses in the fields, meadowlarks, doves, finches, lizards. I play as if there are listeners. The music is simple, untrained. Sometimes I get lost in the rhythm of my breath moving through the flute body, emerging as music, and other times I am keenly aware of the Others, my companions in the dazzling world. I have been teaching myself this practice of offering small beauty in reciprocity to the world, a practice that is deepened each time I play as if creatures other than human beings might hear me. It is an enormous act of imagination to participate as if even stone hears and plays a apart in the land’s organs of perception. I want to inhabit a fully animate world- and sometimes I do, although not usually while paying bills or getting the tires rotated. In fact, the animate Earth seldom reaches me when I’m involved in the tasks of maintaining a 21st century life. But perhaps the world itself does not change; perhaps the anima mundi is always near and receptive; perhaps only the lens with which I perceive the world shifts or widens. The numinous, psychic atmosphere pulses with aliveness, crackles with curiosity…..Geneen Marie Haugen

the body listens to the light

The logos is the order of the kosmos, guiding alike the flight of the sparrow and the life of the sage.

…..Erazim Kohak

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